


A Star Looking For A Sky

by veronicaluv



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicaluv/pseuds/veronicaluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve receives some bad news and decides to drown his sorrows, leading to certain revelations that Danny never saw coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Star Looking For A Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Another story from the first season, so Grace is young, Danny's wearing a tie, and Catherine isn't much more than a walk-on.

Wednesday night, and Danny was doing paperwork. He was the _only_ one doing paperwork, because McGarrett had disappeared after taking a phone call, Kono was off doing a continuing ed course, and Chin was meeting with a C.I. who'd asked for some help with a personal problem. That last one seemed a little too convenient as far as Danny was concerned, but he filed it away as a possible excuse for the next time there was a crap load of paperwork and everyone else was bailing again.

He finished the last report and emailed a copy to Steve, then glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock and he was finally done, so he picked up the remains of the sandwich he'd had for dinner and swept them into the trash can. Taking one last look at his desk, he straightened the pictures of Grace he had on the corner, stuck the pen he'd been using in a drawer, and took two steps toward the door.

On the third step, his phone rang.

Hanging his head, he let it ring twice more before picking it up.

"Five-0, Detective Williams."

"Hey, Danny, it's JJ."

Danny frowned before making the connection to the guy who ran the bar around the corner. "Hey, JJ, what's up?"

"I, uh, got a problem here."

Circling his desk, Danny retrieved the pen he'd just put away. "Yeah? What's wrong?"

"I got a drunk Steve McGarrett sitting at my bar. He's not good to drive home but I don't want to try and take away his keys, if you get my drift."

Danny's head snapped up as he tossed aside the pen. "Steve McGarrett? _My_ Steve McGarrett, tall guy, big muscles, armor-piercing gaze Steve McGarrett?"

"Yeah, that's the one. He's been knocking back shots of Maker's Mark like there's no tomorrow. You gonna come get him or what?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, I'm on my way. You cut him off yet?"

"Yeah, ten minutes ago, but he's still looking like he wants to tear the place apart. If you could hurry—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm there."

**********

Danny paused at the entrance of the bar, looking around until he found Steve. The place was moderately busy since there'd just been a shift change, but there were two empty stools on either side of Steve where he sat hunched over at the bar, his forearms resting on the polished wood.

This wasn't good. Danny had seen Steve nothing more than mellow after a couple of Longboards, and he'd never given any indication that he was prone to drinking the hard stuff to the point he couldn't drive, which meant that something had just gone wrong in Steve's world. Whatever it was, it wasn't Danny's business, but the well-being of his partner was his business, and it was time to get this situation under control.

Sitting on the stool to Steve's right, Danny acknowledged JJ's grateful expression with a nod. "Can we get two ice waters here, JJ?"

"Yeah, you got it."

Beside him, Steve hadn't moved, hadn't even raised his eyes from contemplating the empty pretzel bowl in front of him. Danny waited a beat, then nudged Steve's shoulder with his own.

"So, sailor, you new in town?"

When Steve didn't respond, Danny sighed. "Okay, tough guy, I get it. You're deep in the heart of moody territory and you don't need a sherpa. But, see, the thing is, you're scaring off JJ's customers, and we like this bar, so we need to stay on his good side. Hope you're ready to head for home, 'cause the Williams taxi is leaving in five."

"Not going anywhere." The mumbled words were only slightly slurred, but the difference was definitely noticeable.

"Okay, that's good! Communication lines are open, we now have a dialogue, thank you. So, here's what I wanna know. About you, specifically."

Steve laughed, a short, bitter sound that Danny had never heard from him before. "What could you possibly want to know about me?"

Rattled by the defeated tone in Steve's response, Danny took a sip of his ice water. "What kind of drunk are you?"

"Danny, what the hell—"

"Are you a mean drunk or, like, a cuddly drunk or a sad drunk? Maybe a happy drunk? 'Cause listen, if you're a mean drunk, I'm calling Chin and he can deal with you. If you're a cuddly drunk, I'm calling your girlfriend, and if you're a sad drunk, I'm calling a cab because I don't want you slobbering all over my new tie."

"And if I'm a—what was the last one? A happy drunk?"

"Well, if you're a happy drunk—and that's not looking too promising from where I'm sitting—then chances are you won't try and kill me when I attempt to pour you into the car and take you home."

"Yeah, whatever." Pushing aside the glass of ice water JJ had placed in front of him, Steve turned his head to glare at Danny. "Wait—you really think I'd hurt you?"

"What? Nah, 'course not, I was just taking the opportunity to give you a bad time 'cause you're drunk and there's the tiniest chance your reflexes are slow enough that if you take a swing at me or anyone else, I'd be able to duck." He slapped Steve lightly on his arm with the back of his hand, then leaned close and lowered his voice. "What the hell's the matter with you anyway, getting plastered on a school night? Do you enjoy being hung over in the middle of the week?"

"Leave it alone, Danny, it's none of your business."

"Yeah, that's what I told myself and you're right, it's not, so whatever's given you a case of the blue meanies, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. You don't wanna talk, that's okay, too, but either way, I'm taking you home."

"I can get myself home," Steve said, but there was no fight in his words, only weariness. "You can take off, I promise I won't drive."

"Sorry, no can do."

Steve slammed the bar with the palm of his hand, causing several bar patrons to move further away. "Fuck, Danny, something wrong with your hearing? I said I'm fine, I'll call a cab."

Danny had dealt with enough drunks while in uniform that Steve's alcohol-fueled combativeness and massive mood swings didn't faze him. The fact that this was Steve, Mr. In Control At All Times, was a little disconcerting—whatever had hurt Steve tonight, it'd hurt him bad, and that made Danny all the more determined to help. "No, my hearing is fine, thank you for asking, and as for calling a cab, allow me to point out that I'm already here, and I'm cheaper. I won't even get mad if you don't tip me."

"Fuck off."

"Whoa, okay, so much for being a happy drunk. You want me to call someone else, then?" Danny pushed up his shirtsleeves and held out his hand. "Gimme your phone, I'll call Catherine—"

"No! No, that's not—no."

"Ah, okay." Danny rubbed at his mouth, aware he needed to tread lightly. "She, uh, she what this is all about?"

That got Steve's attention. He turned to frown at Danny, eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, pardon me, but this is the classic response of a guy who got dumped tonight, so I just assumed that—"

"Shut up, Danno, okay? This has nothing to do with her." Steve rubbed at his reddened eyes. "Just go home."

Ignoring his own confused reaction to Steve's denial, Danny nodded. "Yeah, see, I can't do that. As your partner, I'm responsible for your ass, drunk or sober, and now I gotta figure out a way for us to make a graceful exit."

He slid off the stool and waved at JJ, who brought over the tab. Danny picked it up and after glancing at it, emitted a low whistle.

"I'll tell you this, buddy, I am impressed, both by your good taste in bourbon and your capacity to put it away. 'Course, when you're ten feet tall, you got a lot of space to fill."

He slid his wallet out of his back pocket and took out a credit card, handing it to JJ along with the tab. Steve remained seated, still hunched over his crossed arms, and Danny contemplated the defeated posture with a sigh. Apparently, the partner approach wasn't going to work—Steve wasn't reacting to Danny the way he normally did, and it was throwing Danny off his game. He thought about the way Steve was behaving, more like a wounded animal than anything else, and that made him realize that right now, Steve didn't need a partner, he just needed somebody to be there for him.

Danny scribbled his signature on the tab and placed the card back in his wallet. After tucking the wallet in his pocket, he laid his palm on Steve's back, letting it rest there to give Steve a moment to adjust to his touch, then slid it across until he had Steve in a loose, one-armed embrace.

"Look, I'm sorry you're hurting," he said softly, his eyes on Steve's stony profile, "and you know I'd do anything to make it better, but I can't fix it here in a bar. Let's go home, I'll make some coffee, and then if you want me to go, I'll go. If you want me to stay, I'll stay. Whatever you need, all you gotta do is ask. But I'm not leaving here without you."

The muscles beneath Danny's arms bunched as Steve turned his head away. Patient, undaunted, Danny waited silently, rhythmically squeezing Steve's shoulder near the neckline of his t-shirt. He was eventually rewarded when Steve looked at him, a ghost of snarl on his lips.

"You don't have a clue, do you?" Steve hissed. "Not a fucking clue."

A little startled by Steve's hostility, Danny nodded. "That is exactly true. Nevertheless, we're leaving. Let's go."

Getting Steve outside and into the Camaro was harder than Danny had anticipated. Two hundred pounds of inebriated Steve McGarrett wasn't the easiest thing to maneuver through a crowded bar, and Danny had to apologize several times along the way when Steve's broad shoulders connected with another patron, one of whom took exception to having his beer spilled. In order to keep the peace—or save the guy's life, given the look on Steve's face—Danny waved at JJ, who nodded, indicating that Danny had one more item he had to pay for on Steve's tab. Once they were on the sidewalk, Steve's momentum took him in the opposite direction of the parked car, and Danny had to lean into him to get him going back in the right direction. It would've been funny if Steve hadn't been blank-faced the entire time, his body stiff and unyielding.

Ten feet before they reached the Camaro, Steve murmured something unintelligible and slung his arm around Danny's neck, shifting his weight and almost knocking both of them into the street. By the time Danny was seated at the steering wheel, Steve beside him with his gaze fixed on some far horizon, Danny was sweating. He yanked his tie off and tossed it over his shoulder before starting the car, then sat there with the engine idling while he contemplated his next move.

Taking Steve to the house on Piikoi was an option, but Danny didn't know if Mary was there and didn't want to deal with her if she was. Besides, he didn't like the idea of anyone seeing Steve this vulnerable, so the only choice was to take Steve back to his apartment and let him sleep it off. Steve didn't seem to notice or care where they were going until Danny pulled into the parking lot next to his building. He sat up from his slumped position and turned to Danny, eyes wide and angry.

"Wait, what are we doing here?"

"Whoa, bourbon breath," Danny waved a hand in front of his face, "dial it back a bit, all right?"

"I don't want to be here, take me home."

Danny reached over and unsnapped Steve's seat belt. "First rule of getting drunk, the guy who cleans you off a bar stool gets to pick the destination. Stay there, I'm coming around."

Steve wasn't actively belligerent as Danny hauled him out of the car, but he wasn't exactly helping, either. He draped himself over Danny and that made it hard to walk, but Danny didn't complain, since Steve's hand clutching Danny's belt seemed to give him enough coordination to get them to the apartment. He leaned Steve against the window as he unlocked the door, then guided him inside, leaving Steve swaying in the middle of the room while he turned on some lights.

"Okay," he said, hands on his hips, "gimme your weapon and empty your pockets."

Steve stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Huh?"

"Weapon. Please."

Scowling, Steve fumbled at his holster, finally getting it unhooked and handing it over to Danny, who set it on the kitchen counter. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Now your backup."

It took a few minutes for Steve to balance himself on one knee so he could roll up the leg of his khakis and pull out the semi-automatic similar to the one he'd given Kono out of his ankle holster. Getting back to his feet was just as laborious, but Danny made sure none of his amusement showed when Steve handed over the gun. For a tough military guy, he was remarkably pliant when he was drunk, but the ravaged expression on Steve's face reminded Danny that the situation was far from funny.

"Thank you. Pockets, too."

Steve tensed. "Why?"

"Look, we both know that if you really, truly want to leave, I couldn't stop you, drunk or sober. But if I can make it difficult for you to get into more trouble tonight, I will. I'm not gonna hide anything, I just want everything where I can see it." Seeing the mulish set to Steve's mouth, Danny shrugged. "Look, you got a key to the Cammie, you got credit cards, and I have noticed that from time to time you can be a very determined individual. But while you're on my turf, you play by my rules. C'mon, hand the stuff over so I can go make coffee."

Steve drew himself up to his full height. "Screw you," he stated, imbuing the words with the kind of dignity only a drunk guy could get away with.

"Oh, only in your wettest dreams, navy boy," Danny replied cheerfully. He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. "Let's go, c'mon. You eat anything or were we enjoying a liquid diet tonight?"

"Not hungry." Steve slapped his phone, badge, and wallet into Danny's hand, then tossed him his keys after Danny set those items aside.

"That's what I thought. Go on, sit, take a load off. Not on the floor, you dope, on the couch. Oh, and here," he tossed Steve a bottle of water, noting with admiration that even plastered, Steve one-handed the bottle with ease, "let's work on some hydration while we're at it."

Danny busied himself in the kitchen but kept an eye on Steve, who'd sprawled onto Danny's couch like he didn't have a single bone in his body. In one hand was the water bottle Danny had given him, but his other hand lay lax on his thigh, his thumb brushing the edge of the zipper on his khakis. Danny swallowed and looked away, because this really wasn't the time to entertain lusty thoughts about his partner. Actually, there wasn't ever a good time to do that, especially since Steve had made it clear that Catherine hadn't dumped him. Back when Danny had asked Steve about that at the bar, he'd experienced more than a little disappointment that a breakup wasn't the cause of Steve's distress. Of course, then he'd felt totally guilty about wishing something so rotten on his partner, and now as he waited for the coffee to brew, he was thoroughly confused about how he should be feeling about any of it. Lust he could handle, but ever since Meka's funeral, lust had taken a back seat to deeper, scarier emotions that he didn't dare examine too closely.

The one thing that remained unchanged was that Steve had gotten some kind of bad news, bad enough that he'd sought oblivion in a shot glass, and that was something Danny could understand. He'd had a lot of bad nights after Rachel left him, and they'd only gotten worse during the divorce. He knew from that experience that a good friend could make all the difference, and even though he and Steve had worked together less than a year, he knew he that he could be that friend. No, by some unimaginable twist of fate, he was that friend, and if Danny ever fantasized about testing the boundaries of that friendship, this wasn't the time.

He'd just turned away from the refrigerator with a carton of eggs when he saw that Steve was no longer on the couch but on his feet, tilting precariously to one side as he looked around.

"You okay? You, uh, you gonna throw up or something?"

Steve squinted in Danny's direction, then slowly shook his head. "I need to pee."

Danny turned back the refrigerator. "You know where the bathroom is, don't forget to aim. Oh, and watch out for—"

"Ow! _Fuck_."

"—Gracie's bike."

He'd just cracked some eggs into a bowl and added milk when Steve reappeared from the bathroom. The fork in Danny's hand slipped from his fingers as he beheld a now shirtless Steve standing in front of him, the end of a bright pink toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

"What—what are you doing? What happened to your shirt?"

Steve took the toothbrush out of his mouth and glanced down at his bare chest. "It had a beer stain on it."

"Oh, so now I'm doing your laundry? And that, what is that?"

Steve looked down at the toothbrush in his hand. "It's a toothbrush."

"Yeah, I know it's a toothbrush, it's Grace's new toothbrush, I just bought it for her 'cause it had a dolphin on it! It was still in the wrapper!"

Steve held the toothbrush up to his narrowed eyes. "Yeah, there's a dolphin." He lowered the toothbrush and gave Danny a dopey grin. "S'cute."

Danny rubbed a hand over his face, charmed in spite of himself by Steve's precise assessment. "I'm so glad you think so. Can I ask you something? Why are you brushing your teeth right now?"

To his surprise, Steve's face crumpled a little. "You said I had bad breath."

"No, no, I did not say you had bad breath, I said you had bourbon breath, two completely different things. Now, go, swish and spit, then get back in here, coffee's ready. Which is gonna taste real good if you also got into Grace's bubblegum-flavored toothpaste."

Steve did as he was told, but when he returned, there was still the problem of his shirtlessness, a state that Danny certainly enjoyed but found far too distracting when he was trying to act like a supportive buddy and not a lovesick doofus. Which he still wasn't sure he was, but tonight was definitely putting him on the doofus side of the equation. What with Steve being all sad and vulnerable and naked from the waist up and looking at Danny like he was his only hope of ever being happy again, it was hard to stay on task.

"Here." He set a mug of coffee on the counter. "Drink, you'll feel better."

Steve wrapped his hand around the mug but made no move to lift it from the counter. "Rather have a beer."

"Not gonna happen, my friend, you are cut off for the night." Danny looked at him over his shoulder as he set a skillet on the burner. "You sobering up at all?"

"Yeah, sure." Steve's eyes lost focus, then he shook his head. "Not really. Just not feeling quite so...yeah, you know."

"No, I don't know, but that's okay. This is your bender, babe, not mine. You ready to talk about it or you want to eat first?"

"What are you making?"

"My specialty. Also, the only thing I know how to cook and not set something on fire. Scrambled eggs."

"Danny, I don't think I can eat—"

"Shush, you'll try. You have about seven ounces of high quality bourbon that's gonna burn a hole through your stomach unless you give it something else to deal with. A little protein, a little caffeine, a good night's sleep—you'll be good as new in the morning."

"Uh, Danny, that doesn't make any sense, chemically speaking—"

"Hey, no science lessons tonight, all right? I know from being shit-faced, so here, eat your eggs, I'll be right back."

Steve took the bowl Danny handed him. "Where're you going?"

"Change the sheets on the bed."

"Now? Why?"

"My mom, she always told me, when you have guests, you give them the best bed and you change the sheets."

"Wait, I'm not staying—"

"What did I tell you? Look, there is a system to these things. You, you're gonna eat your eggs and drink your coffee and then tell me what's wrong before you crash. Or, you are welcome to crash first and wake up sober and then bust my chops for bossing you around while you're drunk. Either way, I'm easy. We good?"

Steve looked down at the eggs, then back at Danny. "I'll take the couch."

"Oh, no," Danny said on a laugh, "that is so not gonna work. Open or closed, half of you ain't gonna fit. So sit, relax, eat, I'll be right back."

When Danny returned, Steve was back on the couch, his empty bowl and coffee mug on the floor beside him. He was looking increasingly bleary but reacted quickly enough when Danny threw a bright blue t-shirt from Kamekona's into his face.

"Put that on. The neighbors see you through the blinds, they're gonna think we're making a porno."

Steve set the shirt aside. "Whatever, I'm comfortable."

Danny picked up the shirt and tossed it back into Steve's lap. "Yeah, well, I'm not, and furthermore, you don't have to live here."

Steve stood up so quickly that Danny had only a brief second to reassess just how drunk he was before taking a step back. He loomed over Danny, shoulders canted forward, almost aggressive but then again, not really, not in a way that made Danny think he was in any kind of danger. No, this was more confrontational on a personal level, but Danny still didn't know why Steve had reacted that way.

"What is it about me that makes you uncomfortable?" Steve murmured.

Danny took a step backward, aware that the night had just taken another turn for the really bizarre. Of all things for Steve to get in his face about, whether or not he was wearing a t-shirt wasn't one of them, but some instinct told Danny that the t-shirt wasn't the issue here. Steve was giving him that look, the one that said no way did Danny know what was coming next, even though Danny was beginning to get a clue. But a drunk Steve wasn't something he'd dealt with before, so Danny lifted his hands in mock surrender, hoping to distract him.

"You kiddin' me? Swear to God, I wear my PJs in the shower, I'm so modest."

"PJs, Danny? Seriously, you sleep in pajamas?"

Actually, Danny didn't, but there was an odd light in Steve's eyes that made him withhold that information. Instead, he tried to lighten the darkening mood.

"Is, uh, is this part where you become a cuddly drunk? Is that why you're asking about my sleeping attire?"

It was the wrong thing to say, because Steve's expression didn't change, sending up warning flags in Danny's head. "And what if it is? How do you want to deal with that?"

"Aw, that's easy. See, I don't take advantage of drunk people, that is so not cool."

"Yeah, maybe not." Steve's gaze slid down to linger at the open neckline of Danny's shirt. "But will it make a difference when I'm sober, _Danno_?"

Oh, crap, that didn't sound good. The dangerous way Steve said Danno sounded like an invitation to something that under these circumstances could cause Danny a hell of a lot of trouble—the bad, I-can't-believe-we-did-that kinda trouble, which was making the situation more difficult by the minute. Steve McGarrett was sex on a stick, leaving people of both genders panting in his wake without even trying. Danny had seen it too many times, and when Steve deliberately turned on the charm, no one was immune. Especially not Danny, and he was usually just catching the blowback. But he'd never dreamed he'd be the on the receiving end of that smoky stare, or reading body language that basically said all Danny had to do was give the okay and they'd be horizontal in two seconds flat.

But having Steve's back meant he had to have Steve's best interests at heart, and there was no way this could end well unless Danny convinced Steve that he was still too drunk to make wise decisions. He figured he'd be kicking himself later for passing up the only chance he'd ever get to feel all that raw power beneath his hands and mouth, but friendship and loyalty trumped temptation and lust every time.

Or so he hoped, but a half-naked Steve wasn't making it easy, not with his eyelids at half mast over pupils so dark the color was nearly swallowed up.

"Okay, okay, hang on, this conversation is making me feel drunk. Look, you had a bad night, I get that, and it's making you a little crazy, and I totally get that, too. But right now, I'm not gonna let you say or do anything that's gonna make it all weird between us tomorrow, because I'm pretty sure that whatever you've got going on, convincing yourself that the nearest warm body is gonna make things better isn't where you need to be."

Steve inhaled sharply and turned away, and Danny's heart contracted at the raw disappointment he caught in those changeable hazel eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, don't be that way. Listen, let's try this. Let's say it was me who got hammered tonight, and you took me home to chez McGarrett, and I put the moves on you. Putting aside the fact that your first instinct would be to pound me into the ground, you'd know this is something too important to just let happen. Right?"

Instead of answering right away, Steve bent over and retrieved his bowl and coffee cup. "Yeah, sure. Look, I think I'm gonna go crash for a while, try and clear my head."

"Good, that's good," Danny said, even though good wasn't the word in his head. No, that word sounded more like failure, because that's all Danny felt, that he'd somehow failed Steve. He didn't dare allow himself to be what Steve wanted him to be in a moment of weakness, but in the end, he hadn't been any help at all.

He watched as Steve set the cup and bowl on the counter, searching for something to say to make it better. Steve gave him a tight smile and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Danny to wonder not only how helping out a buddy could go so wrong, but how something that he suddenly wanted beyond all reason had just been placed out of his reach forever.

Yeah, being noble _sucked_.

**********

Two hours later, Danny turned off the TV that he wasn't really watching and had turned on too low to hear anyway. He knew he'd been watching basketball but had no idea who'd been playing, his mind too busy replaying the events of the evening. Once Steve had disappeared into the bedroom, Danny hadn't heard anything else, so he hoped that Steve had been able to get some sleep and that all of this would be forgotten by sunrise.

Except Danny knew he wouldn't forget. How could he forget giving up the only chance he'd ever get to make love with Steve, something he'd tried so hard to avoid thinking about for months? Up until a few hours ago, he'd been totally safe, knowing that this wildly inappropriate, totally insane, not to be dreamt about crush he had on his partner had no chance of ever being discovered. And he'd been content with that, because not having what he wanted in life was turning out to be the code he lived by.

But tonight he could've had something, a memory, a brief couple of hours when something he longed for was finally given to him. Had he not feared the consequences and the loss of what he valued so deeply—this intense, roller-coaster-on-speed relationship with Steve that made him so crazy, yet couldn't live without—he'd have gone for it. Instead, he'd done the right thing, and damn it, there were still consequences to face, judging by Steve's reaction and the deafening silence coming from the bedroom.

With the TV off, the room was plunged into darkness since Danny had turned off all the lights once he was alone. Now he was faced with the decision of pulling out the sofa bed or sleeping on the couch, and neither option appealed to him. Either way, he'd have to go into the bedroom closet to get a pillow and a blanket if he was going to approximate anything like comfort.

He got to his feet, yanking the shirttails of his blue dress shirt out of his trousers. He'd already toed off his loafers and socks but that was as far as he was prepared to go tonight. The kitchen was clean, the dishes loaded in the dishwasher, and even though it wasn't that late, Danny felt as though he'd run some kind of marathon. He knew he wouldn't sleep, not with Steve nearby, but there wasn't much else he could do.

The door to the bedroom wasn't quite closed, so Danny had no problem easing it open to slip through. There was enough light for him to make out Steve curled up on top of the bed, not between the clean sheets Danny had provided. His back to the door, he seemed for all the world to be fast asleep, so Danny crossed quickly to the far wall and slid the closet door to one side. Reaching up, he grabbed the spare pillow and pulled it down, searching in the dim light for the blanket he knew he'd stored beside it.

"Danny."

The word was softly spoken, but it startled Danny so much that he jerked at the blanket his hand had just encountered, bringing it down on his head.

"Jesus!" He yanked off the blanket and turned to glare at Steve, who was propped up on his elbow. "Give a guy some warning next time, all right?"

"That was the warning," Steve said. "Sorry, man."

"Yeah, all right." Leaving the blanket on the floor, Danny turned on the bedside lamp, then sat down at Steve's side. "How you feeling?"

Steve didn't respond right away, instead twisting his body and pushing back until he was upright, his wide, bare shoulders leaning against the bed's headboard. Bending one knee, he rested his arm on it, and Danny was careful to keep his eyes up and right on Steve's, because he knew that until he got his feelings back under control, the memory of this kind of intimacy would only bite him on the ass later.

"I'm okay," Steve replied.

"By okay, do you mean sober?"

"I mean I think I owe you an explanation."

"No, you don't. See, that's the nice thing about partners. You do something stupid, they forgive you, 'cause next time, it's their turn. So that means, the next time I do something stupid, which we all know won't be for at least a—"

"Danny."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. About earlier, I'm sorry I put you on the spot like that."

Great, so now Steve wanted to talk about exactly what Danny wanted to avoid. Pretending to misunderstand, Danny shook his head.

"No problem. During the divorce, I had a regular tag team of buddies that drove me home from Sal's almost every Saturday night for two months. Don't even get me started on how many fights I almost—"

"Look, are you just totally going to ignore the fact that I made a pass at you?"

Danny sighed and rubbed his mouth. He should've known that Steve wouldn't let it go. "No, I'm totally gonna remember the fact that you were drunk off your ass when you made a pass at me. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm totally flattered, and sometimes even I confuse myself with tall, beautiful women, but if you're worried that you insulted me somehow, forget it. We're good, okay? We're good."

Steve didn't answer, his lashes obscuring the expression in his eyes. Then, in one lithe move, he pulled back his legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, putting his feet on the floor and resting his elbows on his knees so that his position mirrored Danny's.

"I got some bad news tonight."

"No kidding," Danny said, but he said it with a smile and was rewarded with a small one in return.

"When I was growing up, my old man, he wasn't around as much as he wanted to be, except maybe during football season. After my mom died, I was sixteen, pretty much on my own, except for Rick, my dad's best friend. He more or less took me under his wing, made sure I stayed out of trouble. He was a really great guy."

"Sounds like it. Hurts to lose someone like that, I know."

"No, no, he's okay. He lives in Tucson now."

"Then—"

"He has a son, Peter, couple of years younger than me." Steve rubbed his eyes. "You know how there are just some people who never get it right? Pete was one of those guys. Rick, he asked me to look out for him and you know, I tried, but Pete managed to screw up just about every opportunity he ever got. He was two years behind me at Annapolis—"

"You helped him get in, I bet."

Steve shrugged. "I wrote a letter. Thing is, Pete was smart as hell, he could've been a success at anything he tried. But somewhere he just lost his way, and no matter what I did or how many times I bailed him out of trouble, he just kept screwing up. He finally got kicked out of Annapolis, but not before trying to implicate me in his jackassed attempt to sell test answers online."

"Ouch," Danny murmured, but inside he was seething. Anyone who took advantage of Steve had to be the lowest of the low.

"Even after that, I kept trying. I'd help him get a job, he'd get fired in three months. He needed money, I'd send it to him. Last year, he didn't have enough money to fly to Dallas to see one of his kids, so I paid for his ticket. But I never told his dad any of this, you know? He always believed his son just had a lot of bad luck and he trusted me to help him out."

"Sounds like you did everything you could, including shouldering a boatload of responsibility that should've been someone else's. Like his father's."

"Yeah, maybe, but that's just it. I didn't do everything." Steve paused and rolled his shoulders."Couple of weeks ago, he called me, said he was in trouble again. This time he'd gotten on the wrong side of some connected drug dealer in Vegas and wanted me to have LVPD lean on the guy to take off some of the pressure."

"And you told him no?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Told him he should either go to the police or remove himself from the situation. Even told him I'd send him bus fare so he could go see his dad."

"I take it that wasn't good enough."

"No. He got busted for possession and was awaiting trial, but two days ago, he got shanked in the yard, some stupid gang beef he wasn't even a part of. He almost bled out before they got to him. He never regained consciousness."

"Okay, yeah, that definitely qualifies as reason to knock back a few."

"Nah, it's not that. I've been expecting a call like that for years. It's his dad. Turns out Pete told Rick that I'd refused to help him out. That was Rick on the phone tonight. He blames me for Pete's death, says it's my fault because I didn't help him out."

"Shit," Danny whispered.

"Yeah. He, uh, doesn't even want me to attend the funeral next week."

Danny nudged Steve's shoulder with his own. "Hey, the guy just lost his kid, he's hurting, he doesn't know what he's saying. He'll come around."

"Maybe. Truth is, he's right. If I'd tried to—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there, cowboy. Don't be taking a ride on the guilt-mobile, just because a grieving father is looking for some place to park his pain. From what you've said, you did everything you could, it was this Pete guy's fault he couldn't figure out life."

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, then turned his head to meet Danny's gaze. "You wouldn't have given up on him."

"Neither did you." Danny shook his head. "Sounds to me like this Pete was a huge blind spot, for you and his dad. How come it took you all this time to try that tough love stuff with him? I mean, you're normally a no-nonsense kinda guy, I figure you'd've been straight with him a long time ago."

"I did it for his dad. I didn't want Rick to know how screwed up Pete really was and I guess I was trying to protect him, pay him back for all the times he was there for me when I lost my mom."

"And now he blames you for his son's death. Yes, that officially sucks, but it still sounds like you did your best."

Steve was silent for a moment, then continued in a soft voice. "Yeah, well, seems my best is never good enough, is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Couldn't save Pete. Couldn't save my dad."

Steve bowed his head, his posture so beaten down that Danny did what came naturally and draped his arm around Steve's shoulders, giving his neck a comforting squeeze like he had at the bar. Instead of tensing up or pulling away, Steve leaned into him, bringing their heads closer together than Danny had intended. He was just about to put some space between them when Steve turned his face toward Danny, his eyes dark and filled with sorrow, his bottom lip caught between white teeth. Danny wanted to sooth that lip, to take away the pain it represented and let Steve know he wasn't alone. Without thinking it through, he lifted his free hand to Steve's jaw, letting the brush of his fingertips hold Steve in place as he closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to that reddened lower lip, caressing it gently. He let the touch linger, not pushing, not expecting anything, just connecting, letting Steve accept it or reject it.

He felt the gentle susurration of Steve's breath against his lips and tensed, prepared to face the consequences of breaching the unspoken rules of partnership, but Steve didn't move away. Instead, he shifted his arm until his hand rested low on Danny's back, bringing Danny into the curve of his warm, bare skin. Danny's breath caught when Steve took over the kiss, his touch as gentle as Danny's as he nuzzled Danny's lips apart. It was astonishingly natural, this first kiss—there was nothing forced or invasive, and the tightness Danny felt in his chest had nothing to do with being uncomfortable and everything to do with sharing a few precious seconds with someone who'd come to mean so much more to him than he'd ever thought possible.

The kiss ended when Steve ducked his head away, his long eyelashes fluttering. Danny dropped his hand from Steve's jaw, but Steve's position kept their bodies nestled against each other. Danny rested his chin on Steve's shoulder, letting them both breathe in the moment, resting in the trust they had in each other to get them through the next few moments.

"That was kinda crazy, huh?" Danny finally whispered, injecting a thread of humor into his voice to give Steve an out if he still needed one. Steve gave a small chuff of laughter, but he didn't seem inclined to move any time soon, which was fine with Danny. He was physically closer to Steve than he'd ever been and was determined to enjoy the opportunity, since it was the only chance he'd get.

Lifting his head, his gaze fell on the scar on Steve's chest, the one left by Hesse's bullet. It had healed completely months ago, and was now merely a patch of oval of skin tanned slightly darker than the rest of him. Because it was something to focus on, Danny tilted his head as he lifted his fingers to touch the scar, the pads of his fingertips noting the different texture between it and the smoother surface of Steve's unblemished skin.

He froze when Steve's hand covered his, pressing Danny's palm flush to his chest. Danny's eyes flew to Steve's, wondering if he'd finally stepped over that line they'd both been nudging the past few minutes. But Steve's gaze was serene as he looked back at Danny, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Crazy?" Steve said. His shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. "Yeah, maybe. But then I've never been afraid of crazy."

"That is entirely true," Danny said with a heavy sigh. "That much, I have learned. But still," he continued more seriously, "what do we do now?"

Steve wrapped his fingers around Danny's hand and gave it a squeeze before letting it go. "I think you'd better take me home."

"Right." Danny leaned away, breaking the connection of their bodies, not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed and pretty sure he was a lot more of the latter than the former. "So this thing that just happened," he flapped his hand between them, "is, what, a fluke brought on by too much Maker's Mark on your part and too much wishful thinking on mine?"

"Danny—"

"Because I just kissed you. And then you, you kissed me."

"Yeah, I know, I was there."

"Look, I'm just asking for some clarification here so I know whether I should be picking out a china pattern," he swept his hands to the right, then to the left, "or working on my résumé."

Steve grinned at him, the first honest, relaxed-Steve grin Danny had seen all night. He started to smile back but Steve swooped in and planted a swift, hard kiss on Danny's lips, wiping away the next smartass remark Danny had been trying to formulate.

"I like plain white," Steve murmured in Danny's ear, "so if you go with a pattern, make it tasteful, okay? Nothing flowery, I hate that."

"Wow," Danny murmured. He wasn't expecting a literal answer but then Steve was the world's greatest expert in messing with Danny's expectations. "So, hang on a minute," he said with a frown, "why am I taking you home? Isn't there another obvious option here?"

Steve shook his head as he stood up. "Any other night, sure. But if we're gonna do this, we're not gonna start on a night that had you dragging me out of a bar because I was too hammered to drive. I'm gonna sleep this off—in my own bed—and then you and I are gonna take our time and do this right."

"Yeah, but—"

"Look, if we're all in, waiting isn't going to screw it up. And I'm about an hour away from a full-blown hangover, okay? Not saying there may be puking involved, but no promises."

Danny licked his bottom lip, having only paid attention to the important part of what Steve had just said. "So, uh, you're all in, is that what you're telling me?"

"Yeah, Danny, I'm all in. Sure, we could hop into bed together, but that's not what this is about." Steve stopped, his eyes cast downward. "At least, not totally. But when that happens, I want it to be about us, not about some personal problem I'm having."

"Okay, wait—what is—is that—are you _blushing_?"

Steve pointed a warning finger at Danny. "Shut up."

"You are! You are totally blushing! Who knew—big, bad Steve McGarrett? Nah, big, romantic mushball McGarrett!"

"Danny, so help me, you tell anyone—"

"No, no, I think it's cute! In fact, it's adorable, and I'm gonna find out what else makes you turn red like that. Let's see—"

His words were cut off when Steve grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss that started out punishingly hard but settled into soft and sloppy almost immediately. Danny held on to Steve's shoulders as their mouths slanted together, tongues sparring in a passionate kiss that was nothing like the gentle caress they'd shared earlier. Danny felt arousal begin to pulse through his veins and he was about two seconds away from manhandling—or attempting to manhandle—Steve back onto the bed, but Steve broke the kiss and released Danny, a wicked gleam in his eye that Danny planned on making him pay for later.

"Let's move, partner."

"Okay, whatever." A dazed Danny followed Steve into the living room, watching as Steve retrieved the Kamekona t-shirt and pulled it on over his head. "Oh, hey," he said, snapping his fingers, "I'll wash your other shirt and give it back to you at the office in front of Kono and Chin. Think they'll notice anything strange about that?"

Steve was shoving his personal belongings back in his pockets, but looked over at Danny with an exasperated expression. "Seriously? Kono's practically asked what my intentions are toward you and Chin thinks you're a steadying influence on me. Which I don't get but okay, whatever."

"Wait, what? You're kidding, right? Tell me you're just yanking my chain."

All he got in return was that face of Steve's, the one that said Danny didn't have near enough clearance to know what was going on in Steve's twisted mind, but the bickering back and forth made the drive to Steve's house feel normal enough that when Danny pulled into Steve's driveway, it almost felt like a regular work night.

Almost, except for the part where he put the car in park, then reached over and wrapped his hand around Steve's neck, pulling him close to plant a pretty hot kiss—if he did say so himself—on Steve's parted lips. And if his hand slipped briefly between Steve's thighs, well, he was merely trying to keep his balance.

"God," Steve panted as the kiss ended, "you play dirty."

"Oh, trust me, you have no idea just how dirty. Now get outta here, see you in the morning. Oh, and take some aspirin before you to go bed, it'll help with the head."

**********

When it happened, Danny was glad that Steve was far, far away. On the other side of the island, in fact, running down a lead with Chin while Danny and Kono ended up in an ambush that no one could have predicted. Two days after they'd shared that kiss in Danny's apartment, things weren't exactly awkward, but they weren't the same, either. They were almost like high school kids, the two of them—when work wasn't keeping them occupied, they tended to gravitate toward each other but not talking much, sharing little glances and teasing remarks but not taking it any further. Danny assumed they'd either figure it out or go back to what they were before all the kissing started, and while he knew which way he wanted to go, he still wasn't sure about Steve.

Yeah, he'd said he was all in, but he also didn't stick around long enough for them to test that theory. This was not what Danny was used to—he knew what he wanted and was ready to jump in with both feet and every other part of his body. This "slow and steady wins the race" crap was going to work his last nerve real quick. If Steve wanted to go slow, Danny could do slow, but there might be terms they'd have to hammer out along the way.

That's when Danny realized that this thing really had a chance of working—they'd actually been doing the whole courting thing since the beginning, because that description could be applied to pretty much any time they spent together. And maybe if it hadn't been for a meeting with Grace's teacher after work the day after Steve's bender, they'd be a little further along, but Danny knew their lives were going to be like this and if he wanted it to work, he'd have to learn to adjust.

But then personal considerations and plans to seduce Steve at the next possible opportunity got pushed aside when they were handed a case from the governor's office that kept them on the run for twelve hours straight.

On the plus side, Danny got to watch Kono put some moves on one of the assailants that would've made Steve proud. On the down side, he knew they were both gonna get their asses chewed for allowing the perps to get the drop on them in the first place and relieve them of their weapons. Danny especially was going to catch a lot of flack because he was the vet, and deservedly so. Luckily, the two idiots they'd been sent to interview weren't the brightest crayons in the box, so he and Kono were able to regain the upper hand pretty quickly. Unfortunately, no one told them about the third guy hiding in the bedroom closet, the one who sank a steak knife into Danny's left shoulder above his vest before Kono had a chance to drop him with a kick upside his nasty, bald, overly tattooed head.

So it was a relief to concentrate on keeping Kono's spirits up while he bled all over his second favorite tie and waiting for the ambulance to arrive to cart him off to the hospital, instead of worrying about Steve's reaction to the situation. Like all of them, Kono had rudimentary first aid training, and she did an admirable job of holding it together as she tried to stop the bleeding, but this was the first time she'd had a partner get this badly injured in the line of duty. She stayed professional, even though the words "officer down" were said in a shaking voice when she made the first call.

After that, it was more difficult to keep track of what was happening. Shock was never a pleasant sensation, and despite the pain radiating out of his injured shoulder, Danny reminded Kono to contact Steve after she'd called for backup. Judging from the look on her face as she held the phone to her ear, Steve was saying the right things, not that Danny had expected anything less. Satisfied that everyone was up to speed and that someone would be there for Kono at the hospital, Danny let go of his grip on consciousness. The last thing he heard was Kono imploring him to stay with her and while he didn't want to disappoint her and tried to apologize, it was too hard, and the darkness took over completely.

He awoke to beeps, pain, the sharp smell of disinfectant, more pain, and Steve McGarrett holding his hand. Maybe not holding his hand properly, but it was definitely Steve's hand curled over his wrist, and it was his thumb lightly rubbing the curve of Danny's palm. How Danny knew that without opening his eyes he neither understood nor cared, it was just instinct, a subliminal awareness he had any time Steve was nearby. In his current world of hurt, Steve's presence was the only thing that kept him tethered to reality, so he drifted for a while, listening to the muted sounds of medical equipment, annoyed that they were attached to him. At one point, Steve removed his hand as Danny became aware of soft muttering followed by the sound of boots on linoleum, and the feeling of abandonment that flooded him at the loss of that touch was overwhelming. He roused enough to answer some dumb questions posed by a doctor, who poked and prodded and did other stuff, but he closed his eyes as soon as the doctor took off. Within seconds, he heard heavy footsteps and then Steve's hand was back, his broad, warm palm tucked around Danny's fingers bringing such instant comfort that he fell into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.

The next time he awoke, Steve was gone, but there was another presence in the room with him, a presence that smelled a lot like his ex-wife. She wore a distinctive, spicy perfume—so different from the fresh, floral scents he associated with their marriage—and the fact that she was there and not a member of his team was enough to make him fight to regain full awareness, because he really needed to know what was going on.

"What," he croaked, then licked his lips and tried again, "what are you doing here?" He opened his eyes to see Rachel standing beside the bed, clutching a tissue, her eyes red. "Aw, c'mon, don't."

"So sorry," she said on a short, brittle laugh, "but this is bringing back difficult memories."

"Nah." Danny tried to sit up, but couldn't get his left arm to move. "This is nothing like that time, this is just a scratch. A really deep, painful scratch, but still, just a scratch."

"Danny, you had to have surgery."

"Yeah, I know, which is why I feel like hell. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Apparently, you have me listed as your next of kin with the police department."

"Sorry about that. Hey, find the control thingy and help me sit up a little."

They succeeded in raising the bed just enough for Danny to feel like he was a part of the conversation, and as soon as the bed stopped moving, he looked beyond Rachel, searching through the glass walls of his room to the corridor for a member of his team. One member in particular he really wanted to see, but he wasn't going to be choosy. When he didn't see anyone, he turned back to Rachel.

"What time is it? Where's Grace?"

"She's still in school, I haven't told her yet. I don't know how to tell her—"

"Rachel, c'mon, I'm not dead. I'll be out of here and back to work in no time, so just tell her—no, wait, I'll call her tonight when I get home."

Steve spoke from the doorway. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

How a guy Steve's size could sneak around so quietly, Danny would never understand. He watched as Steve approached his bed on the same side where Rachel stood, forcing her to take a step back so that he could get closer to Danny.

"What's not going to happen?" Danny was proud that his voice was steady, even though his pulse was doing a weird trippy thing now that Steve was back in the room.

"You going back to that apartment of yours after the hospital cuts you loose. Which, I've been informed, will not be tonight."

"Not tonight? Crap. Okay, so this day officially can't get any worse. How's Kono? I'm only asking 'cause I kinda bled all over her and that never leaves a good impression."

Steve nodded. "She's good. She and Chin are gonna stop by later."

"You, uh, you did get the rest of the bad guys, right?"

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. "Yeah, you might say that."

"What, what is that face? What happened?"

Steve's grin was the evil one, the one that said there may have been a few procedural steps ignored along the way. "Too bad you missed it, you would've hated—"

"Excuse me," Rachel stepped up to Steve's side, "is it really necessary to talk about this now?"

"Rachel—"

"No, Danny, you need to rest. I know the—what do you call it? The drill. Yes, I also know the drill."

Steve frowned down at Danny. "Drill? What drill?"

"Forget it, it's nothing. It's just not the first time Rachel's seen me take one for the team."

"Take one for the team? Must you always speak in sport metaphors?" She turned to Steve. "Six years ago, Danny was shot in the line of—"

"Rachel, that's enough. Steve doesn't need to know the boring details."

Steve folded his arms over his chest. "No, I'm pretty sure I do."

Danny glared at them both. "Later, okay? Rachel, listen, I'm good. Tell Grace I'll call her tonight but swear to me you will not tell her I got hurt."

"She's going to want to know why she can't spend the weekend with you. What do I tell her about that?"

"What are you talkin' about, not spending the weekend with me? Why wouldn't she?"

Rachel sighed in frustration. "You're hardly going to be able to care of yourself, let alone our daughter. In fact," she glanced at Steve, "maybe you should consider coming out to the house. We can put you up in the guest quarters."

Danny scrubbed his eyes, wishing he could as easily scrub Rachel's suggestion from his brain. "No, thank you, no, I will not be needing your guest house. I appreciate the invite, but I will be picking up Grace, as usual, on Friday. Oh, and I'll get that next of kin thing fixed, too."

"What next of kin thing?" Steve asked in a fake-casual voice that made Danny look at him twice.

"Aw, it's nothin'. Rachel here just got the call from HPD today because I haven't changed my contact information."

Judging from the sour look on Rachel's face, she was about to say something in that snooty tone that sent Danny's blood pressure soaring on a good day, but the beeping of her phone caught her attention. She dug it out of her purse and checked it, then looked over at Danny.

"I have to go, Stanley's waiting. We'll continue this discussion later." She smiled impartially at Steve, inclining her head. "Commander."

Danny didn't hear Steve's reply. He closed his eyes and turned his head away, because despite his denials to Rachel, he knew that taking care of Grace this weekend was almost out of the question. They'd packed the two days full of plans as usual, most of them including the outdoor stuff they loved to do together. He could only imagine how bored she'd be, shut up in his tiny apartment while he sat on the couch trying not to pop his stitches. As much as he'd underplayed his injury to Rachel, he knew this one was going to take some time to heal and was also going to knock him on his ass for a few days.

"Hey." Steve's hand landed on high on his shoulder, high enough for his knuckle to brush Danny's jaw. "Where'd you go?"

Danny rolled his head back to face Steve, who was frowning down at him. "She's right. This shoulder's gonna sideline me for a couple of days and it's not fair to Grace to make her sit around the apartment all weekend. At the most, maybe, we could go to the movies—nah, scratch that, I'd never be comfortable in those chairs. Damn it," he sighed, "this sucks so bad."

"I have an idea." Steve removed his hand, then sat down beside Danny on the bed, the position exactly like any time Steve was in Danny's office because for some reason when he was in there, he couldn't use a chair like a normal person.

"Yeah, what?"

"Look, I know how you are about time with Gracie, but you're not going to be able to handle anything beyond a TV remote for about three days, let alone your kid. So let's kill two birds with one stone. Come stay out at my house."

Danny frowned at him. "Both of us? Grace, too?"

"Yeah, Gracie, too. There's plenty of room, lots of stuff to do, you get to spend time with your daughter and I can keep an eye on you."

"Oh, right, keep an eye on me, sure. Like I need a babysitter?"

Steve grinned at him, unperturbed by Danny's acid tone. "No, you need a keeper, but come on, admit it, this is a great idea."

Danny chewed his bottom lip. It _was_ a great idea, hell, it was a fantastic idea, but it was also right in the middle of this whole new world he and Steve had barely begun to explore. Moving into Steve's house with Grace, however briefly, was taking things in a direction he hadn't expected.

"What about your sister?"

"Mary's gone back to the mainland for a couple of weeks, trying to work things out with her ex."

"Huh, and all this time I thought she was the smart one in the family."

"That's funny," Steve grunted. "So, what do you say?"

"It's something to think about," Danny said. He looked Steve straight in the eye so there would be no mistaking his meaning. "You and me, we've haven't had a chance to even talk about the other night."

"I know," Steve murmured. "And I'm sorry about that. But, Danny, the truth is, whatever it is we're going to build together, it has to include Grace. You wouldn't want it any other way and neither would I. Having both of you out at the house for a couple of days—" he shrugged, "—seems like a golden opportunity to me."

"Opportunity for what?"

"For Grace to get used to the idea of us."

Danny chuckled. "Hell, I'm not used to the idea of us."

Steve patted Danny's knee and stood up. "Yeah, we'll take the opportunity to do something about that, too."

**********

Danny tried not to fidget but he was failing spectacularly. His shoulder ached, he was hungry, he didn't want to watch TV and he didn't want to read a book or sit on the beach. He had to content himself with sitting in a comfortable chair and staring out the window of Steve's living room, waiting for Steve to return with Grace after picking her up at Rachel's.

His knee bobbing up and down, Danny reviewed the last twenty-four hours and tried to pinpoint the moment when he'd lost complete control of his life. He was pretty sure it was when he agreed to Steve's invitation but if it wasn't then, it was when he gave the keys of his apartment to Chin.

The stupid hospital had insisted that he stay overnight—the surgery had been minor but the blood loss he'd suffered coupled with low blood pressure had the doc a little spooked. It hadn't been all bad because Chin and Kono had kept him company for a few hours after they'd moved him to a room, a nice, private one, thanks to the governor's open checkbook policy with Five-O. He and Kono talked through their actions at the apartment and got feedback—and a lot of grief—from Chin as Danny admitted upfront that it was his fault. Still, he was glad to use his mistake as an example of how not to get a false sense of security that just because you've bagged two knuckleheads doesn't mean a third isn't hanging around somewhere.

Chin took off but Kono stayed through dinner—if you could call what they served him food—and after she left, Danny really started to feel down. He knew from experience that being alone in a hospital at night was one of the loneliest feelings ever. Even talking to Gracie was depressing, though he made sure to keep any of what he felt out of his voice. She seemed excited about staying at Steve's, so at least there was that, but once he'd set aside his phone, he started to brood. He thought about calling Steve but couldn't figure out what to say. Come keep me company, I'm lonely? Yeah, that sounded like a real adult thing to admit to.

But then it turned out he didn't have to admit to anything. Before Danny could get really depressed, Steve showed up, his badge prominently displayed on his belt to ward off any hospital staff with archaic notions regarding visiting hours. He walked in without saying a word, a beat up, square cardboard box in his hand.

Danny turned off whatever mindless TV show he wasn't watching and tossed aside the remote. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, now truly glad he wasn't hooked up to something that could give away how hard his heart was pounding.

Steve flipped over the box, letting Danny see the cover, and Danny started laughing, even though he had to clutch at his arm because moving hurt like a son of a bitch.

"You kiddin' me?" Danny said. "Trivial Pursuit?"

"Yeah, the nineties pop culture version, perfect for a guy who thinks Bon Jovi is an example of classic music. Now I know you got an owie, so I'm prepared to go easy on you."

Danny reached out, making a grabby hand motion. "Gimme that and see that rolling table? Bring it over here. Yeah, like that. Now sit down and prepare to get schooled, buddy."

Danny made it through one and a half rounds before he finally gave in and closed his eyes. He woke up once during the night to find the game had been cleared away but Steve had remained, though now he was asleep, his arms tight across his chest and his lanky body looking very uncomfortable all folded up in the wing chair by the window.

For the few minutes that Danny was able to stay awake, he kept his eyes on Steve and wondered at the turns his life had taken since meeting the crazy bastard. He'd gone from hating him to respecting him to liking him to—something else—and now here the guy was, keeping watch over Danny in the middle of the night. It brought up in Danny an emotion he couldn't quite identify, a feeling that he was hesitant to explore, but before he could put his finger on it, he'd fallen asleep.

He awoke in the morning to a perky nurse on one side of his bed, a smiling Chin Ho on the other, and no sign of Steve. After a perfunctory nod at the nurse, Danny turned with relief to Chin.

"Hey," he said, "good morning, thanks for coming. You springing me out of this place?"

Chin held up his hands, palms forward. "I'm here only as the errand boy. Boss said he forgot to grab your keys last night so he asked me to stop by and pick them up."

Danny frowned up at him. "Why do you need my keys?"

"So I can get into your apartment without adding B and E to my résumé. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got stabbed with a steak knife. Oh, wait, I did. And you need to get into my apartment why?"

"You're going to Steve's after you get released, right? He asked me to grab some stuff for you and drop it off at his place. Any special requests?"

"Uh, special requests, yeah." Danny rubbed at his forehead, trying to think. "Let's see, nothing that buttons or buckles. Snaps and zippers are about as much as I'm going to be able to handle for a couple of days."

"Got it. Sweats and tees. What else?

"Think that's it—oh, wait, there's a photo of Gracie on a table, grab that for me too, okay?" He listed off a couple more items as Chin wrote them down on his notepad.

"Anything else?" When Danny shook his head, Chin pointed to a pile of dark blue cotton sweats on a nearby chair. "I brought you some HPD gear so you don't scare anyone on the way home."

"I'm sure the hospital staff appreciates your thoughtfulness, thanks. Oh, keys are in a plastic bag in the drawer over there."

Chin left and Danny struggled to get dressed, then had to listen to the nurse's spiel about what he could and couldn't do for the next few days, the importance of follow up visits, and how to adjust the strap on his sling. Steve picked him up right on time and drove him out to the house on Piikoi, then turned around to get Grace, leaving Danny sitting and waiting and worrying about what the weekend would bring.

He bolted up and walked outside when he saw the truck pulling into the driveway to park behind the Camaro. Standing on the porch just outside the front door, he watched as Steve came around and opened Grace's door, then helped her get down before turning to grab her bags out of the truck bed. Grace looked around, then broke into a grin when she saw Danny, giving him a wave before running toward him.

It never failed to make Danny feel like the luckiest man on the planet to see his kid, and with his injury a physical reminder of the dangers he faced on the job, this reunion was that much more important to him. He went down on one knee and held out his good arm, ready to give her a big hug, but then she stopped a few feet away from him, big eyes wide and scared and focused on Danny's sling.

"Daddy?"

"Hey, Monkey, what's wrong—oh, this?" He patted the sling. "This is nothing, no big deal. Doctor says I only gotta wear it just for a couple of days, then I'll be good as new. Now, you gonna give me a hug or what?"

Bright smile restored, Grace flew into his one-armed embrace, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a hard squeeze that made him grunt in pain. He glanced over her shoulder to see Steve standing by and watching him with his "I'm trying not to look worried but totally failing" expression, Grace's Barbie bag in one hand and an iCarly backpack in the other. Danny gave him an "I'm okay" nod and then let Grace go, standing up and taking her hand.

"C'mon, let's go inside and check out Steve's cool house, okay?"

Danny showed Grace around while Steve took her bags up to Mary's room, a place he assured Danny he'd checked over carefully for anything an eight-year-old shouldn't be exposed to. By the time he came back downstairs, Danny and Grace were sitting side by side at the kitchen table, Danny listening as Grace finished telling him about school.

"All set?" Danny asked, looking up.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, we're good. Gracie, did you tell your dad what we're gonna do tonight?"

Danny gave Grace a one-eyed glare that made her giggle. "What are you up to, munchkin?"

"Me and Steve are gonna make tacos!"

"Oh, really?" Danny glanced at an innocent-looking Steve. "This ought to be interesting."

"I explained to Gracie that since we're going to take care of you this weekend, we need to go to the store and pick up stuff to make dinner while you rest."

"Rest? Rest? Yeah, well, thanks, Nanny McPhee, I'm perfectly—"

"That reminds me," Steve snapped his fingers, "we need to pick up some DVDs, too. Gracie, why don't you go upstairs and check out your room, it's the second door on the left. When you come back, we'll make a list and then head to the store."

"Okay." Grace slid out of her chair and left the room. Steve sat down in her vacated chair just as Danny leaned back and closed his eyes.

"You take your meds?" Steve asked quietly.

"Just the antibiotics."

"Danny, c'mon, man, you're in—"

"Hold on." Danny opened his eyes. "I'm not gonna take a painkiller stronger than aspirin, not while Grace is here, all right? I'm not. I'm not gonna be stoned around my kid."

"How about we compromise. If you're still hurting like you are now, take one after she goes to bed so you can get some sleep."

"Yeah, maybe. Listen to me for a sec," he reached over and linked his little finger with Steve's, giving it a shake and lowering his voice, "I wanna thank you for all this. I, uh, I gotta be honest with you, the only thing better than being with Gracie is being with you and Gracie at the same time."

Steve covered Danny's fingers with his free hand, leaning close until their heads almost touched. "Look," he murmured, "I know we're doing this totally ass backwards, but I wasn't kidding when I said I was all in, and that means Grace is a huge part of that. You and me, we'll get our chance, but in the meantime, I can't think of a better way to spend the next two days."

Danny glanced at Steve's mouth, then quickly looked away. "Yeah, well, one thing could make it better, but that's out of the question—"

The sound of an eight-year-old's feet running down the stairs was enough warning for Danny to release Steve and sit back in his chair, the two men sharing a rueful grin as Grace skipped into the kitchen to rejoin them.

**********

"Danno, look! I'm surfing!"

"Yeah, Monkey, I see you, now hold on to Kono, okay? Don't let go!"

"Danny," Steve shifted in the chair beside him, his face shaded by the brim of the ball cap he'd taken from the Missouri pulled low over his eyes, "she's in two feet of calm water, wearing a flotation vest. She's going to have to let go some time."

"I know, I know, it's just that I should be out there with her, you know?"

"Look, I'm all for seeing you in swim trunks sometime before I'm eligible for social security, but between you, the instructors at Step Stan's country club, and Kono, who do you think is most qualified to teach Gracie not only how to surf, but to be safe in the water?"

"Oh, Kono, no question. I just wish Grace had been interested in something more, you know, cerebral."

"Cerebral." Steve lifted the cap and resettled it back on his head so he could glare at Danny. "For a kid in grade school. Tell me, what exactly do you consider appropriate?"

"Like, I don't know, chess or something. Photography. Anything that doesn't involve water and things in the water that can eat you."

"Photography? Danny, she's eight. Tomorrow it could be about horses or gymnastics—"

"Yeah, and if either of those scenarios happen? You'd better tell Chin to shine up his sidesaddle and you, my friend, you can just dig out your leotard real quick."

His last comment received nothing but silence, so Danny bit his lip and took a sideways peek at Steve, gratified to see Steve staring back at him with that "I can't believe you just said that" look on his face. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to Grace and Kono, who were coming up from the beach, laughing and chattering like old friends.

This was good, he thought, really good. If not for the continuing pain in his shoulder and the dumb sling he had to wear, today was about as great a day as he could ask for, maybe the best he'd had in Hawaii. Grace was having a blast with Kono, Chin and Kamekona were on the way with stuff for a barbecue later, and Steve—well, Steve was lounging in the beach chair beside him, his long, bare legs stretched out with his heels dug into the soft sand, his hands linked and resting on his equally bare, taut belly, just above the waistband of his board shorts.

It had started out this good the previous night and Danny knew he had a lot to be thankful for right now. Steve and Gracie got along great, and in fact had double-teamed Danny all evening, alternately poking fun at him and fussing over him. He'd harassed them right back, demanding all kinds of outrageous concessions because of his injury, until Steve finally threw a tortilla chip at him and then things had escalated from there.

After dinner—and a quick shower for Steve to get the salsa out of his hair—they settled in and watched a couple of movies until Grace had fallen asleep, slumped against Danny's good side where she sat on the couch between the two men. After turning off the TV, Steve inclined his head toward Grace and then tilted it toward the stairs. Danny glanced down at the dark head on his shoulder and nodded, so Steve gently gathered her up and carried her himself, Danny following behind. She'd put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth between movies, so all Danny had to do was pull back the blanket so Steve could lay her down. He stepped aside so Danny could pull up the covers and kiss her forehead, then he'd gone back downstairs as Danny took one last look at his daughter from the doorway.

He'd just turned away when Grace spoke up, her voice groggy with sleep. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby, what is it?"

"I like Steve."

Danny scrubbed a hand over his mouth, his throat suddenly tight. "I know, me too. Think we should keep him?"

"Yeah," Grace sighed, now more asleep than awake.

"Then I guess we will. Go to sleep now, Monkey, so you'll be ready for your lesson with Kono tomorrow."

Danny left her and went downstairs where, without saying a word, like they'd been following this routine for years, he and Steve began working together to turn off lights and gather dishes to take them into the kitchen. After the dishwasher was loaded and the counters wiped down, Steve turned off one last lamp downstairs, so that they only had the light of the moon bouncing off the waves to see each other by as they met up in the living room. Then it seemed just as natural and easy as everything else that night for Danny to slide his good arm around Steve's waist and draw him close.

Affection had always been an effortless emotion for Danny to express and that's what he was feeling now as Steve's arm came around him in a loose embrace, careful not to jar his injured shoulder. Steve seemed to intuitively understand Danny's gesture, neither of them looking for more as they stood together, enjoying the continuation of the intimacy the night had brought them. Danny knew it was all something of an illusion, this brief excursion into domesticity, but that didn't make this moment any less cherished in his book.

But then he looked up just as Steve tilted his head, and the kiss they shared was less about comfort and more about wanting and needing and really, really bad timing.

"Damn it," Danny turned away on a little laugh, rolling his neck to ease sore muscles, "this is so confusing."

Steve gave Danny's good shoulder a squeeze. "Yeah? What about all this do you find so confusing?"

"Oh, you know, everything." Danny waved his hand over his head, indicating the world in general. "Couple of months ago, you crashed into my life—if you could call what I had here a life—and messed it all up. Next thing I know, we're working together like we've been a team for ten years, and the next thing after that, all I can think about is making out with you like I'm a horny teenager but I can't because A, my daughter is asleep upstairs and B, I got a bum wing that hurts like hell. What part of that isn't confusing?"

Steve shrugged. "I'm not confused. As far as I'm concerned, everything's going according to plan."

"Plan? What plan? Who said there was a plan?"

"My plan, Danny. The plan I started working on about a month after you pulled a gun on me. Now, granted, it wasn't a perfect plan, and I'm kinda making things up as we go along, but for the most part, I think things are working out pretty well."

"Oh, so, getting drunk the other night and making cow eyes at me was part of this grand scheme of yours?"

"No, not really, but you have to admit, even plastered, I can improvise pretty well." Steve paused, then frowned at him. "Cow eyes?"

"Yeah, you know, big, pretty eyes, long lashes—cow eyes. It's a compliment."

"Maybe that's what passes for a compliment in New Jersey, but here, it'll get you knocked off your ass."

"Just so we're clear," Danny slid his arm out of the sling and winced as he stretched muscles grown stiff with inaction, "you have an open invitation to personally knock on my ass at a later date. Right now, I'm heading to bed, though not without a great deal of regret and a very frustrated libido."

"God, yeah," Steve had muttered with a crooked grin, "copy that."

Now as Danny watched Grace flop down in the sand, her face turned toward the sun like she'd lived here all her life, he realized that he'd once believed he had everything he'd ever wanted or needed, and then without any warning, he'd discovered it was all a lie. Looking back, marriage to Rachel seemed more like a bad movie than reality, a brief span of craziness that probably ended the only way it could, and the one good thing to come out of that craziness was this glorious child the two of them had managed to create.

But now he had another chance, a chance with someone he trusted so deeply that he could really be himself again, far more than he ever was with Rachel. With her, he was always trying not to disappoint her, afraid that if he didn't find reasons to make her want to stay in the marriage, he'd be the one that failed. And as hard as he'd tried, he'd still failed, and all that effort and planning and thinking of ways to keep her attention were for nothing. They'd had some good years, the early ones, and he wouldn't trade the experience of being a father for anything, but he'd gotten to the place where he could admit that he and Rachel had been a mistake from the start.

With Steve, there was none of that drama, none of that striving to be something someone else wanted him to be. From the beginning, he'd been straight up Danny Williams with Steve and he'd been accepted as such, as an equal and a partner. It didn't take him long to figure out that Steve not only respected him, he _liked_ him, despite Danny's best efforts to keep him at arm's length those first rocky weeks.

Then Meka was murdered. Meka, one of the only guys in Hawaii he'd really connected with, and even though they weren't working together anymore, without him, Danny was a little lost. Or so he thought, until Chin and Kono had shown up at Amy's, and they'd come not only to show their respect, they'd come for _him_ , knowing how hard it was going to be. And right behind them, standing tall and proud and looking like the answer to every question Danny'd ever had, Steve McGarrett had looked into Danny's eyes and everything had fallen into place.

Well, almost everything. There were two important pieces that Danny needed to complete the picture, but Danny was too smart and too cynical for his own good sometimes, and one thing he knew for sure was that not only weren't happy endings guaranteed, they were often just an illusion in the first place.

The first piece was easy. So what, he was hot for his partner, anyone with a pulse was hot for his partner. Why the guy had to walk around bare-chested in front of Danny at every possible opportunity was a mystery but once Danny realized he was looking forward to the next spontaneous shirt change, he'd done a little mental adjusting and said goodbye to some preconceptions he'd held about his sexuality. It wasn't exactly a surprise at thirty-four and he did it with little regret and some amusement—he was self-aware enough to go with it, even if the technical aspects were nothing but theory enhanced by a healthy imagination.

What made the whole thing so crazy was that physical attraction was only a fraction of the problem. Accepting that he wasn't as straight as he'd once believed was one thing—wanting to wrap Steve up and take care of him when the weight of the world was resting on those broad shoulders was something else. It'd been a long time since someone besides Grace mattered so much to Danny, and listening to Steve talk about that Pete jerk had just about broken Danny's heart, but then it had also made him want to punch a dead guy. Even though he knew he was protective by nature, having those kinds of feelings about Steve was pretty insane—if there was a man on the planet who could take care of himself, it was Steve McGarrett. But then Danny Williams didn't do things halfway, and once he'd admitted what Steve had become to him, there was no turning back.

Yet none of it mattered because Danny had believed he was on his own in this, and so he made sure his feelings never showed, not when lust started to merge with scarier thoughts, and not when Steve threw himself into situations where he could get hurt, or worse. Danny knew from experience that keeping it professional was the only way to make it through the day sometimes, especially on those mornings when Steve sauntered in to HQ with that just-got-laid smirk on his face.

So the last piece of the puzzle was all Steve, and up until he'd given Danny that smoldering look at his apartment, Danny had been pretty sure that wasn't a piece he'd ever live to see. Even then, Danny was prepared to let it go—he'd certainly woken up in the wrong bed a time or two, trying to ease the pain of betrayal in the arms of a willing stranger—but then he had to go and kiss Steve. Which may not have been so bad, if Steve had just taken it in stride or even punched him. But no, Steve had to kiss him back, and now here Danny was, sitting on a beach with his daughter and his friend Kono and the half-naked crazy man Danny was pretty sure he'd fallen in love with.

The weekend continued pretty much as it had started. Grace demonstrated her newly acquired surfboard balancing skills to an admiring and watchful Chin while Steve and Kamekona argued over how to properly grill a hot dog. Kono kept a sidelined Danny company and took the opportunity to ask him about his career in Jersey, something that no one besides Meka ever seemed interested in. By the time everyone went inside after dinner, Danny couldn't imagine any place he'd rather be, and that included West Orange.

What surprised him was how easily Steve seemed to adapt to all this. Having Danny and his daughter in his house couldn't have been something he'd ever thought he wanted, yet he'd stepped into his role as the center of this thrown-together family of six like he'd never expected anything less. During the weekend, the already faint lines between co-workers and family—yes, and part-time informant—were erased, and for Danny, who missed his family in Jersey so much, it was like the final closure of an open wound.

But while one wound was healing, another wasn't, at least not as quickly as Danny had hoped. Somewhere between root beer floats—Rachel was going to kill him when she found out about Grace's less than stellar weekend diet—and Gracie's bedtime, Danny's shoulder took a turn for the worse. He didn't say anything because everyone was having a good time and he hated being a killjoy, but the pain that had been barely tolerable with aspirin flared up in earnest after dinner.

He thought he'd done a pretty good job of hiding it, but he was still relieved when he came downstairs after seeing Grace to bed to find that everyone had left.

"Party over?" he asked.

"Yeah." Steve picked up a glass and looked around the living room for more. "Let me put this stuff away, then I want a look at that shoulder."

So much for hiding his discomfort, but then it was typical McGarrett to pick up on something no one else would.

"Nah, shoulder's—" Steve's glare stopped the lie cold, so Danny sighed. "Okay, fine. I think I just overdid it today."

"Yeah, there's a shock."

By the time they met up in the guest room where Danny was sleeping, Danny had already taken one of the prescription pain pills in the hope that he'd be able to sleep through the night. It'd taken a lot of silent swearing and gritting of teeth to get his t-shirt off and when Steve walked in, Danny was sitting on the bed and leaning against the headboard, his eyes closed and his face damp with sweat.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Steve's tone was more resigned than accusatory.

"Because," Danny kept his eyes closed, "knowing you, you would've just cut off a perfectly good shirt."

"It's a Hanes cotton t-shirt that you get in a package of five for twelve bucks at Walmart. I think we could've sacrificed one shirt to save you some pain."

"This from a man who can't remember where he put his wallet when the tab comes around, so it's easy for you to spend twelve bucks you don't have." Danny peeled open one eye to glare at Steve. "Can we skip the rest of the lecture? Please?"

"Sorry." Steve placed the nylon kit he'd brought with him on the nightstand, then sat down on the bed beside Danny's knee. "Tell me what's going on."

Danny sighed and looked up toward the ceiling. "It's tight, feels inflamed. Everything hurts from my neck to my ribcage, but I think that's mostly sore muscles."

"Okay. Did you take a—"

"Yeah."

"Good. Let's get this bandage off and see what we've got."

Steve's touch was gentle and steady as he quickly peeled away the bandage, balling it up and tossing it aside before giving the wound a good look. Danny kept his eyes on Steve's face as Steve concentrated on his examination, long fingers ghosting over the overly warm flesh that surrounded the jagged puncture, its edges held together with invisible stitches. Normally Danny hated being fussed over, but this contact was affording the two of them an intimacy of a different kind, the kind of intimacy that built another layer of trust between them.

"How's it look?"

Steve reached for the bag and unzipped it, pulling out a tube of antibiotic ointment and a thick, adhesive bandage. "Not bad."

"You are such a lousy liar."

Steve smiled but kept his eyes on his task, spreading the ointment on the cut with a soft cotton square. "I didn't say great, I said not bad. When's your next appointment?"

"Monday morning."

"Okay." Steve peeled the backing off the bandage and laid it over the wound, carefully pressing it to Danny's shoulder. "And if I suggested we maybe go in tomorrow afternoon—"

"I'd say I'm not wasting what little time I've got with my daughter sitting in a doctor's office for three hours. Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

Danny reached over and plucked at the fabric of Steve's blue t-shirt, just below his collar bone. "We're gonna have matching scars."

"Figures." Steve caught Danny's hand and entwined their fingers. "Some people get matching tattoos, we get matching scars." He paused, then gave his head a decisive nod. "I kinda like it."

"Yeah, well, let's not make it a tradition, okay? You're a couple of scars ahead of me." Danny shifted on the bed, then yawned. "I think I'm done, the drugs are starting to kick in."

"Okay." Steve stood up and gathered the trash, shoving it into the bag. "What time do we have to give Gracie back to Rachel?"

The corner of Danny's mouth quirked upward, because the way Steve had phrased it, he sounded like he was just as reluctant to return Grace to her mother as Danny was. "Five. Hey, where you goin'?"

Steve turned away from the door. "I'm leaving you so you can some sleep. That is generally what we do at this time of night."

Danny heaved a melodramatic sigh as he got to his feet. The pain had eased back and the drugs were making him feel a little loopy. "So the honeymoon is over, I knew it. Not even a kiss goodnight."

He said it just to get a rise out of Steve, and he wasn't disappointed. Steve gave him a considering look, stepping closer until he was in Danny's personal space. Danny didn't back up, interested to see how Steve was going to play this.

"So, you want a kiss goodnight?"

"Well, I'm just sayin' it'd be a nice idea, that's all."

"Okay. Let me tell you all the reasons that it's a _bad_ idea."

Danny's heart sank, now sorry he'd brought it up. "Okay, why?"

Steve set aside the first aid kit and then held up his hand, ticking each reason off his finger. "One. You're on strong painkillers, which means you're under the influence, and if you hadn't told me you'd taken one, your pupils would've given you away. Two, you're on painkillers because you have a hole in your shoulder, a hole that is more than a little infected, which reminds me that you and I are going to revisit the whole doctor thing in the morning."

"Oh, see, that would be no, thank you, we are not—"

"Three. For the first time since I've known you, you're standing in front of me half naked. And just so we're clear? As far as I'm concerned, your timing couldn't be worse."

"Why?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "See reasons one and two."

Danny shook his head. "Still not getting it."

Steve put his fists on his hips. "Because kissing you is like, I don't know, a gateway drug, all right? Especially now that I see what you've been hiding under all those dress shirts you insist on wearing. So, yeah, this just isn't the best time to give in to that particular addiction, not with you hurting, not with you medicated. That's all I'm saying."

"Ah." Danny didn't know how to respond to that, having never considered that Steve had been wanting to see _him_ without his shirt on. It was an exhilarating thing to contemplate, forcing him to re-frame the whole physical aspect of this relationship, but it was also a dangerous line of thought to follow at the moment, especially with the false bravado of Vicodin sliding through his veins.

Instead of seeing how far he could push Steve, he thrust out his hand, fingers curled inward. "Can I at least get a goodnight knuckle knock?"

Steve ducked his head, laughing softly. "C'mere." He took Danny's wrist and pulled him close, leaning forward until their mouths connected in a chaste kiss. Or it would've been chaste, had Danny not pressed his tongue past the soft barrier of Steve's lips and into Steve's mouth, eliciting a moan from Steve that encouraged Danny to shift closer, his free hand sliding low across Steve's hip.

"No," Steve mumbled, stepping out of Danny's reach. He held up a hand when Danny followed him, giving Danny a warning frown. "Would you knock it off? I'm trying to do the right thing here and you're not helping."

Danny slumped onto the bed, not bothering to hide his disappointment. "Man, talk about your instant replay."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, earlier this week, you were drunk and I had to be the gentleman. Now I'm feeling no pain, literally, and you're leaving me at the door like I'm a sixteen-year-old girl and my dad is waiting up with a shotgun." He looked up into Steve's eyes, now entirely serious. "We ever gonna get this right?"

Steve nodded as he retrieved the first aid kit. "Soon as that shoulder is healed and we get some time to ourselves, we'll get it more than right. It'll be perfect."

**********

"Danny. Danny, c'mon, man, wake up."

Danny rolled over, jarring his shoulder and sending shafts of pain down his arm. "Fuck," he muttered. He squinted open his eyes to see Steve standing by his bed, fully dressed, and from the light leaking in from the cracks in the blinds, it was later than Danny wanted it to be. "What's up? What time is it?"

"It's after nine."

"After nine? What—why didn't you wake me up? Where's Grace?"

"Relax, she's downstairs eating breakfast. We wanted you to get as much rest as possible so we decided to let you sleep in. How's the shoulder?"

"Hurts."

"Damn. Okay, listen," Steve sat down on the edge of the bed, "I know this is sudden and I'm really sorry, but I have to go."

"Why?" Danny struggled up to a sitting position as Steve shoved a pillow behind his back. "We get called in?"

"No. I got a call this morning from Rick."

"Rick—oh, yeah, that Pete guy's dad, right? How's he doing? Is he okay?"

"Yeah. You were right, he just needed some time. He, uh, he wants me there for Pete's service in Arizona tomorrow."

"Okay, that's good, that's good. Glad he came around—but, wait, tomorrow? Then you must have to leave pretty soon."

"My flight leaves in three hours. I've already called the governor's office and told them Five-0 is standing down from any new investigations until I get back."

"Wait a minute." Danny rubbed at his eyes, fighting the lingering effects of the painkillers to try and get his mind to catch up to the situation. "Then Grace and me, we'd better—"

"Hang on." Steve placed a key on the nightstand. "This is yours, so you two can stick around as long as you like, and if you want to come back here after you take Grace to Rachel's, that's fine with me."

Danny picked up the key and held it in the palm of his hand, knowing it represented more than just convenience. He glanced at Steve, who was watching him with so much hope in his eyes that Danny had to clear his throat before he could speak. "So you do realize," he complained, "that at the rate we're going, next I'll be asking you to marry me and we haven't even gotten to second base yet."

The stiff line of Steve's shoulders relaxed. "I know," he sighed, "but I can't pass this up."

"No, no, you have to be there, most definitely. Just give me twenty minutes and some coffee and I'll be ready to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Take you to the airport."

"Not with that sling, Danny, you don't—"

"Listen to me. You are going to the funeral of a family friend, and nobody needs to deal with that alone. Since I can't go with you, least I can do is give you a ride. I promise I'll be careful with the shoulder, okay? Now, go, get out of here and ask Gracie to be ready, too. We'll all go."

Danny thought that saying goodbye at the airport would be easier with Grace along, but he was wrong. Just before he got into line at security, Steve went down on his knee and Grace embraced him without hesitation, making Danny's heart clench. It didn't help that her eyes were a little too wide and shiny when she let Steve go, leaving Danny to lighten up the whole situation.

"You, uh, you remember to pack your toothbrush?" he asked.

"I did," Steve nodded, then added with a wink in Grace's direction, "my favorite, the one with a dolphin on it."

That got a smile from Grace, and Danny felt himself relax enough to stick out his hand for Steve to shake. "Have a good trip."

"I will. I'll call you after I land. And about that thing we talked about earlier?"

"Yeah? Which one? The doctor one or the other one?"

"Well, now that you bring it up—"

"What did I tell you? No."

"Okay then, the other one. When I get back, we'll have that time, I promise."

"Sounds good."

Their gazes met and held, and Danny tried to communicate everything he was feeling in the few precious seconds they had left. Frustration, hope, a wish for an easier path, an understanding that this was the one they'd been given, the desire to make it work no matter what. Whatever Steve actually saw in Danny's eyes, it seemed to hit him hard. His jaw tightened as he looked past Danny to some distant point, then he dropped his hand lightly on Grace's head before picking up the straps of his duffel bag and turning to join the security line. He never looked back.

**********

Five days later, Danny sat hunched on a bench in the airport, glancing up every three minutes at the arrival board for Steve's flight which was running almost an hour late. He was equal parts nervous and excited, because this was actually the longest they'd been apart since they'd become partners, and it was right in the middle of everything changing between them. While he was still solid about how he felt about Steve, five days apart could give Steve a lot of time to rethink the whole thing. Danny tried to keep away from that kind of reasoning—one heartbreaking rejection in his life didn't mean he was destined for failure in every future relationship—but Danny was a man who always tried to keep his expectations low in the belief that it would help him manage the fallout when everything went to hell.

In the couple of phone calls he and Steve had shared while Steve was in Tucson, Danny never let his doubts come through in his voice. Steve was dealing with serious shit and it was Danny's place as partner and friend to listen, to crack a joke to make Steve laugh, to distract him with stories about life on the island when Steve sounded really tired. It seemed he'd had to pick up where he'd left off, handling Pete's family and the destruction he'd left behind. There were two kids now without a dad, current and ex-girlfriends showing up, and a grieving father looking to Steve to fix everything.

If there was someone who could do the job right, Danny mused, it was Steve McGarrett. But the problem with guys like Steve was that everyone was glad to have him take charge but no one paid attention to the personal price he'd pay when all the drama was over. That was the most important thing to remember as Steve's flight status changed from delayed to arrived to at the gate—he'd had a crappy week and the last thing he needed was to have to deal was Danny's outstanding ability to second guess himself.

Danny met up with him after Steve retrieved his suitcase from the luggage carousel, silently taking Steve's duffel from him as they fell into step, walking toward the exit.

"You're late."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when they don't let me fly the plane." As they walked out into the late afternoon sunshine, Steve gave Danny a quick once-over. "No sling?"

"No sling. Doc cleared me for duty as of Monday, provided I don't do something stupid between now and then." He didn't bother adding he was only cleared for desk duty because that was a detail Steve didn't need to know. Nor did he need to know that the sling was somewhere in the back seat of the Camaro.

"And the infection?"

"They changed up the meds, got me something that kicked ass, so I'm clear. Listen, since the crew ate you out of house and home last weekend, I took the liberty of stocking you up with some of the basics. Hope that was okay."

Steve shot him a sideways glance. "You have a key, you can come and go as you like. Any of it have any nutritional value?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, there's some green, leafy-looking thing stuck in there along with the Ho-Hos and Crackerjacks and of _course_ there's something nutritious, you health freak. You got your milk, you got your bread, there's organic chicken, salad stuff—you're all set."

Steve tugged at his ear, and Danny could tell he was trying not to laugh. "All right, thanks. What else has been going on?"

"You mean since we spoke six hours ago while you were taxiing down the runway? Let's see, I had lunch—tuna fish sandwich, it was okay, little too fishy—got the Camaro detailed, had Chin try and explain some new program he's set up that went right over my head, and let's see, what else? Oh, yeah, changed my emergency contact information to you, which, if you think about it, is kinda stupid, considering our line of work. But now you're in charge the next time someone wants to turn me into a cop shish kebab."

"Yeah, let's not do that again any time soon. How's Gracie's cold?"

"Doing its thing. Rachel says she'll be okay to go to school on Monday, but thinks she needs bed rest at least until Sunday. Which, of course, cheats me out of a day with my daughter, but not even I can get pissed at a virus." Hearing Steve's disbelieving grunt, he added, "Okay, yeah, well, maybe I can."

Steve shook his head but at the same time, there was an easing of the tired lines around his eyes that let Danny know he was doing his job. He kept up the lighthearted dialogue all the way to Steve's house, hoping it would help Steve decompress from all the responsibility he'd shouldered at the funeral.

It wasn't until Steve had stowed his luggage in his bedroom and joined Danny out on the deck that Danny started to feel like something inevitable was about to happen, that resolution was coming, one way or another. Leaning his elbows against the rail, taking the first sip of beer he'd had in a week, he kept his eyes on the blood red streaks of the setting sun as Steve took up a similar position on his right. Every part of him wanted to stay, every part except the corner of his brain that was telling him to get out of there and leave Steve alone for a while.

He jumped a little when Steve gently tapped his beer bottle to Danny's. "You still with me?"

Danny half turned to him, resting his forearm on the rail. "I should be asking you that question. You're the one who's been dealing with a lot of other people's emotions for the last five days, not to mention that long flight. You must be beat."

Steve shrugged and took a drink from his bottle. "Just glad to be home."

"Yeah, speaking of that, you probably need some down time." _Shut up, Danny, don't say it_. "Let me finish my beer and I'll be out of your way." _It's official, you're an idiot._

"Danny." Steve took Danny's beer and set it alongside his on a nearby table, then placed his hands on the curve of Danny's shoulders. "The only thing that got me through these last few days was knowing that you'd be here waiting for me when I got back. So, no, I don't need time, I don't need to be alone, and I don't want you to go anywhere except inside with me. What I need right now is you."

The firmly spoken words were all Danny needed to hear and exactly what he'd been hoping for. He captured Steve's face between the palms of his hands and smiled up into those hazel eyes, all his fears swept away by the warm acceptance he found there. No longer was there was any cause for doubt, not anymore, and as Danny guided Steve's mouth to his own, he gave up all his worries and lost himself in the pleasures of kissing Steve without anything left to hold either of them back from enjoying each other and the journey they were about to take.

Steve seemed to understand that something fundamental had shifted in Danny. He wrapped his arms around Danny's waist and pulled him in, angling them around until his back was pressed to the rail, then spread his legs so Danny could get as close as possible. They exchanged long, deep kisses that grew increasingly intimate as hands crept beneath clothing and waistbands were explored by impatient fingers, and every erotic thought Danny had ever allowed himself regarding Steve began exploding through his imagination.

It took a moment for Danny to realize that the knocking he was hearing was someone at Steve's front door. He groaned as Steve lifted his head to listen, curling his fingers in Danny's untucked shirt as if to stop him from bolting.

"Do not," Danny muttered, "I beg you, do _not_ answer that door."

Steve took a deep breath and ran his palm over his mouth and down his neck, visibly trying to pull himself together. "Gotta see who it is."

He moved Danny aside, then angled away to take another breath, his hand clenching the railing. Danny wasn't doing much better—things were just getting to the point where clothing was becoming embarrassingly restrictive and the party needed to move to a horizontal surface, so he didn't envy Steve the task of appearing calm and collected to whoever it was at the door.

The knocking had stopped but was quickly followed by the door bell. Steve gave the sky an angry glare as he trotted inside, leaving Danny to tuck his shirt tails back into his trousers before following. He'd just gotten his tie snug against his refastened collar button when he entered the living room to see Steve near the closed front door, a woman in navy uniform beside him with a bottle of wine in her hand.

Danny knew who she was immediately, although considering this was Steve McGarrett, there were probably more than a few good-looking naval officers in his life who showed up unannounced at his home with a bottle of wine and a hopeful gleam in their eye. Careful to hide his own disappointment behind a bland expression, Danny was reassured by the apology in Steve's expression as he performed the introductions.

"Danny, I'd like you to meet Lt. Catherine Rollins. Cath, this is my partner, Danny Williams."

"Hi." Catherine smiled and extended her hand. Danny shook it, returning her smile with one of his own, making it as sincere as he could under the circumstances.

"Nice to meet you," he replied.

Catherine turned to Steve. "Listen, I don't want to interrupt anything, I just found myself with a free evening and wondered if you wanted to go to dinner. I tried calling earlier—"

"Yeah, I was inbound from L.A."

"Oh, I didn't know you'd left the island. So, what about dinner? I think I left a change of clothes here—"

"Wait, hold on. Danny, can you give us a minute?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll just be in the, uh, in the kitchen maybe?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and after Steve's tight nod, smiled at Catherine. "Yeah, in the kitchen. Nice to meet you."

**********

_Unbelievable._

Danny shoved his hands into his pockets, staring out the window into a sky now rapidly descending into twilight. He wasn't a superstitious guy, except when the Knicks were playing, and that only went as far as making sure he was wearing his lucky socks. But this, _this_ was beyond ridiculous.

He tried to console himself with the reminder that just a little over a week ago, there wasn't much more between him and Steve than a professional partnership that had evolved so rapidly into deep friendship that Danny still wasn't sure how it happened, given how it all started. Hell, two weeks ago, he was pretty certain it'd be a long, long time before he'd risk his heart on a relationship with anyone, let alone a guy who not only lived life like he was the hero in an action flick, but also commanded the skills to back it up. But if what Steve had told him was true, he'd been looking for more with Danny long before Danny had figured out that what he felt for Steve went far beyond friendship.

Once they'd gotten on the same page, it seemed like everything else would fall into place naturally because there was nothing in their way. No current attachments—or so Danny hoped, but he couldn't hear any of what was going on in the living room—and even he had to admit that sparks had flown from the moment they'd met. Danny just hadn't understood what kind of sparks until late in the game, but now that he was on board, all they needed was time and privacy, but so far, their luck had been lousy.

The little space of yard in front of the kitchen lit up, and Danny realized that the light was coming from Steve's bedroom. The light remained on for about three minutes, then the yard was dark again. Maybe three minutes after that, Danny thought he heard the sound of the front door closing, so it looked like his curiosity was about to be satisfied.

"So," Danny asked as Steve entered the kitchen, "she leave the bottle?"

Steve's mouth twitched. "No, she took it."

"Too bad. What happened?"

"Not much." Steve shrugged, but Danny knew that face. It was Steve's smug look, the one that said he was going to make Danny work for information.

"Not much? You're kidding, right?"

"Not much, aside from her gathering her things and leaving with the clear understanding that while we'll always be friends—"'

"Oh, no," Danny groaned, "not the friend speech."

" _And_ —pay attention here, Danno—that I was no longer available and wouldn't be calling her again."

"Right, you're no longer available because—"

"Because I've fallen in love with someone, so she needed to lose my private number asap."

"Ah, I see." Danny looked down at his toes and then up at Steve, chewing his bottom lip as he tried to fight off a grin. "You realize you just lost access to all that fancy naval communication stuff, right? Now you gotta do it the hard way like the rest of us grunts."

"S'okay, it's totally worth it."

"Wow. Then, uh, it must be love."

"Must be." Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Reciprocated, I presume."

"Oh, most definitely reciprocated, in case I hadn't made that clear by now. In fact, I can—wait, do you hear that?"

"Hear what? I don't hear anything."

Danny cupped his ear with his palm. "No, listen, I think it's—yeah, aliens are invading Honolulu, or wait, maybe it's a tsunami, or—"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talkin' about the next thing that's going to prevent me from making love to you for the next twelve hours. You know there's gotta be something out there. Maybe there's another gang war—"

"Nope." Steve walked over and slipped his arms around Danny's waist. "No gang wars, no aliens, no tsunamis. I've cleared our schedules and as far as the governor knows, I'm still in Arizona."

"So that means—"

"That means you are all mine until—"

"Until when? Until Sunday? That doesn't sound—" Whatever comment Danny had to share was lost when Steve kissed him. He had a feeling Steve was going to default to that method of shutting him up, so if Danny played it just right, that was a win-win situation for him. The best part was that when the kiss ended, yeah, granted, he was a little breathless and more than a little distracted by Steve's determined pursuit to get Danny's shirt out of his trousers, but he still had a point to make. "As I was about to say, that doesn't sound like much of a commitment to me."

"You didn't let me finish, as usual. What I was going to say was you're all mine until we go pick up Grace on Sunday, then if she's feeling up to it, I thought we could go on a picnic. You got a problem with that?"

Danny stroked the edge of his thumb across Steve's bottom lip, smiling a little when Steve's eyes fluttered with pleasure. "Not a one, Super SEAL. Not a one."

**********

Danny leaned back in the deck chair and closed his eyes. For the first time since he'd moved to Hawaii, he was actually enjoying the sun's rays on his face, letting his muscles relax into the warm, moist heat instead of trying to find a way to compensate for it. Because he hadn't planned ahead, he was wearing a pair of Steve's board shorts, a t-shirt, and his sunglasses, which was as exposed as he was prepared to be, even on a private beach.

Beside him, Steve—who had no problem with exposure whatsoever—was wearing only shorts and his cap pulled low over his eyes, giving a great impression of a man taking a nap. Danny knew better, since their fingers were linked together in the space between the chairs, his thumb sliding idly back and forth across Steve's palm.

He'd forgotten what this was like, sharing little throwaway moments of affection between lovers. He'd forgotten what it was like to have the freedom to touch and to be touched in return, simply because of the joy it brought. He'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone who wanted him just as he was, to be with someone who laughed both at him and with him, gave him crap over stupid things, and challenged him at every level. And up until the first time they'd made love, he'd deliberately forgotten what it was like to be the center of someone's world.

If Steve had figured out that this was Danny's first foray into sex with a guy, he never let on. And Danny, being both competitive and newly in love, didn't care whether or not Steve had ever wandered over to that side of the yard before either, only that Steve would experience as much pleasure as he was giving to Danny. He needed to prove to Steve that all in to him meant that he trusted Steve not only with his heart but with his body, and that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do or try if it meant deepening the bond between them. By the time sunrise came around, all in had taken on a whole new meaning, and Danny knew he'd never be able to use that phrase without thinking of this night.

Of course, it'd been no surprise that Steve in bed was exactly like Steve in life. Focused, obviously, and just as competitive as Danny, maybe a little crazy at times, yet always generous and often achingly tender. Danny found himself going under the sensual spell Steve wove around them time and time again, the hours blending into one another as they learned each other's bodies on a level of closeness that Danny had never known, not even with Rachel.

Now he could take his time, reveling in the freedom to trace a line from the base of Steve's neck to the small of his back using only his mouth, to explore another man's body with curiosity that was both welcomed and encouraged. Steve wasn't shy—also not a surprise—and he made it clear to Danny that nothing was off limits. By the first time they'd fallen asleep in a sweaty, sated tangle of limbs and cotton sheets, Danny had mapped every part of Steve's body and his only regret was that he couldn't stay awake long enough to do it all over again.

In turn, Danny had been explored, caressed, licked, and loved into oblivion more than once. He'd had no idea his body could react in so many different ways just by a change of pressure in Steve's fingers as they encouraged Danny's thighs to part, or by the brush of Steve's toes across the arch of his foot. But if he had to pick one breathtaking moment that stood out in an amazing night filled with them, it was something that happened not long before dawn.

They'd both been asleep for a while, though Danny had lost all track of time by then. He knew they'd gotten up around midnight and shared a shower, a sandwich, and a Longboard—in that order—but that had only given them the respite they'd needed to regain some strength. It wasn't until several hours later that Danny, having fallen asleep with his head resting on Steve's abdomen and Steve's fingers stroking his ear, had awakened on his side of the bed, no part of him connected with Steve. He'd known immediately that he was alone but he wasn't concerned. He just waited and listened, eventually hearing water running in the bathroom behind the closed door. When it reopened, the light was already off, but Danny's eyes had adjusted to the dark by then so he could see Steve approach the bed.

"Everything okay?" Danny croaked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

"Yeah."

Steve pulled back the sheet and stretched out beside him, throwing his arm over his eyes and keeping enough distance between them that Danny frowned. He rolled on to his side but was careful not to crowd him, laying his hand on Steve's ribcage and giving the warm, taut skin beneath his palm a gentle rub.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a dream."

"Bad dream?"

"Weird dream." Steve turned his head on his pillow, meeting Danny's gaze in the dark. "If I said I didn't want to talk about it, would you be okay with that?"

"Course I'd be okay with that, you big dope. You've got a lot of top secret information rolling around in that brain of yours, so I don't need to hear anything you don't want to tell me. I just want to know that you're all right, and if not, show me the dragon I gotta slay to make you all right."

"Jesus, Danny," Steve sighed. Then before Danny could react, Steve sat up and shifted around until he was straddling Danny's thighs. He captured Danny's hands by the wrists and gently guided them up until Danny's fingertips brushed the wall, then leaned down to take Danny's lips in a kiss so tender that Danny's throat tightened. In a night where passion and sensuality had ruled, this kiss was something altogether different, and the contrast shook Danny to the core.

"What's this about?" he asked when the kiss broke. Steve didn't answer, instead sweeping his mouth along Danny's jaw and down his neck as he aligned his lower body with Danny's. "Steve?"

Steve paused, resting his head on Danny's unmarred shoulder and taking several deep breaths. Danny remained still, letting Steve work out whatever it was that was bothering him.

"Forget about the dream," Steve murmured, "it wasn't important."

Danny wiggled one hand until Steve released it, then let his fingers drift through Steve's hair in a calming caress. "Okay."

"But waking up," Steve lifted his head to stare into Danny's eyes, "when I didn't feel you, I thought this was all gone. For two, maybe three seconds, we'd never happened. And, fuck, Danny—" Steve shook his head as his voice broke, "—I don't want to feel that way again."

He released Danny's other hand, allowing Danny to cup Steve's face between his palms, his thumbs stroking the strong planes beneath Steve's cheekbones.

"So then," Danny whispered, "I guess that makes it my job to make sure you never do."

Steve didn't reply, at least not with words. Instead, he used his body to express his response to Danny's vow, and this time, there was no mistaking that this was Steve was making love to Danny, not with him. He offered no opportunity of reciprocation, his focus entirely on Danny and what would send him flying higher than ever before. By the time they fell asleep again, now with Steve's head tucked into the curve of Danny's neck and his arm wrapped around his chest, Danny had been shattered and put back together again, his heart, body, and life irrevocably entwined with the man who held him so close.

But the hand holding thing by the water after breakfast, that was all on Danny. It'd seemed like the most natural thing in the world to gather up Steve's hand in his after he'd joined him out on the beach and he'd done it unconsciously, some part of him needing to reconnect after the intimacy they'd shared. Steve hadn't said a word, but he'd shifted his shoulders a little so his arm was settled more comfortably. Except for that connection, they were in the same positions as a week ago, their relationship still an unanswered question. Now those questions had been answered and the doubts laid to rest, and Danny couldn't remember ever feeling so content in his life. It was unusual and a little scary, this contentment thing, but he was pretty sure he liked it.

With his free hand, Danny reached over and picked up his coffee mug. His injured shoulder was still tight—and not real happy about the activity of the last day or so—but he didn't care. He took a sip of coffee and squinted over at Steve, a speculative light in his eye.

"So," he asked, "what do you wanna do today?"

His eyes still shaded by his cap, all Danny could see was Steve's sly smile. "Go for a swim?"

"Oh, you mean, like a recreational swim? Like doing laps in the ocean for fun?"

"Yeah, Danny, for fun. Some people, including me, like to swim."

"Not my thing. What else?"

"Spear fishing?"

"Forget it, that's for you and Chin, because no way am I telling my daughter I skewered Nemo and pan-fried him for lunch."

Steve sighed and sat up, releasing Danny's hand. He took off the cap and tossed it aside, then pinned Danny with a glare.

"Then what would you suggest? What do you want to do?"

"I say we head over to my place so I can pick up some gear, then we grab some lunch—"

"We just finished breakfast."

"Do you want to hear this plan?"

"Yes, sorry. Please, continue."

"Then after that, we head to the range because I've noticed you have developed a tendency to pull to the right when you're aiming across your body—"

"I do not!"

"We'll let the targets tell the tale, my friend, but I'm telling you right now, it's true. Then we can come back here where, yes, maybe, I may dip my toes into the water just so I can prove to you that I do know how to swim. By then it'll be time for dinner—"

"Again with the eating?"

"—and after dinner, well, I think you can figure out how we can spend a quiet evening at home."

Steve stared at Danny for a few moments, then nodded before standing up and holding out his hand. Danny took it and allowed himself to be pulled out of his chair and into Steve's arms, which was exactly what he'd intended all along. Judging from the smirk on Steve's face, he hadn't been what you would call subtle.

The day proceeded pretty much as Danny had planned, although he was aware that Steve tried extra hard to correct his aim just so he could prove Danny wrong. He didn't mind and in fact, he'd expected nothing less, because challenging Steve was one of Danny's favorite things to do. In return, Steve had teased him unmercifully when they'd gone swimming, giving him crap about everything from his form to his feet, which Steve deemed too dainty to actually be of any use in the water. Danny had taken loud exception to the word dainty, and from there they'd wrestled and played—and made out when the opportunity presented itself—until Steve promised to never refer to any part of Danny as dainty ever again. A truce was reached by dinner, where the conversation was about Steve's memories of Rick, and Danny hoped that by talking about him, Steve could find some peace with that situation.

Much later, as Danny watched Steve sleep beside him, he spared a thought for Rick, because it was his rejection of Steve that had led to a life that Danny now looked forward to living wholeheartedly, instead of one he was merely tolerating for the sake of his daughter. He didn't know he'd been looking for this his whole life, and if someone had told him he'd find love with a tough Navy SEAL in a place he'd hated from the moment he'd stepped foot on the tarmac, he never would have believed it.

But now he did, because now he'd learned that love wasn't something you could control, and a journey he didn't know he'd been on had finally brought him home.

For  
We are No One  
Before Love  
A missing clue looking  
For a Person  
A Star looking for  
A sky  
An "I am" waiting for  
An I

"Love Tells Us Who We Are"  
Donald T. Sanders


End file.
